


Affection

by edema_ruh



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beating, Blood, Cuddling, Drunkenness, Fluff, Homophobia, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Objectification, Protectiveness, Punching, Sexual Content, Sleepy Cuddles, Slurs, Swearing, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence, Worry, argument, kicking, punctured lung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6051304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edema_ruh/pseuds/edema_ruh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After another argument with Enjolras during a meeting, Grantaire storms out of the Musain and heads to a bar. There, a man starts voicing his ugly opinions about the blonde leader, leaving Grantaire with no other choice than to defend Enjolras. The only problems are: Grantaire is shitfaced drunk, and the man has backup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title of the fic is from Cigarettes After Sex's "Affection".

Grantaire left the Musain door open behind him as he made his way out of the café. He could hear Bossuet's calls, faint from the increasing distance between them, but ignored the man completely. There was no way he was heading back, not after everything Enjolras had just told him. 

It started as a heated debate, as it usually went, Grantaire mocking Enjolras' ideals between sips of his glass and Enjolras finally losing his temper and stopping the meeting to argue with Grantaire. This night it had been something silly about a protest for women's rights, and even if the cynic agreed with Enjolras in most of his opinions, he still felt the urge of mocking him just for the sake of it. 

"Oh, please, don't tell me you believe protesting about it will actually change anything", Grantaire spat from where he was spread on his usual chair in the corner. Everyone was already staring at him, some pointing him menacing looks, others confused ones. "It doesn’t matter that most people agree with you, very few actually have the patience or the will to go to the streets and try to do something about it. You're just wasting your time, twenty people won't call anyone's attention". 

"Just because you're incapable of believing things can actually change for the better, it doesn't mean other people can't!", Enjolras retorted, already losing his temper. They'd been discussing the subject for the past ten minutes. "As soon as they realize they aren't alone on their beliefs, they'll unite and together we can demand changes and improvements". 

Grantaire laughed obnoxiously loud at this. 

"Are you really that naïve? Enjolras, no one is coming out of their homes on a sunday afternoon to protest about women's rights, for fuck's sake. People are lazy and selfish, it looks like you're expecting to change the human nature, instead of human's rights". 

Enjolras scowled, breathing hard through his nose and tightening his grip on the back of the chair in front of him, and not even Combeferre's steady hand suddenly on his shoulder would be able to calm down the storm that was coming. 

"Get out", Enjolras said through gritted teeth, and Grantaire's stomach dropped. It was usual for the blond to get annoyed at him and yell, even refuse to talk to him for days, but to kick him out? That had never happened before. Sure, Enjolras would question the reason Grantaire was with the Amis, or more often than not tell him to go wait for the meeting to end in the backroom, but to blatantly kick him out? That sure was new and Grantaire never could have expected it. "Get the hell out of here". 

"W-what?", he couldn't help but to ask, mouth slightly open, voice sounding week to his own ears. He immediately regretted ever opening his mouth. 

"You heard me", Enjolras said, standing up. "You're disrupting the meeting. You're always mocking our cause and our group. I'm tired of your cynicism. If you don't agree with our ideals, just leave. I never understood why you show up in the first place". 

"Enjolras...", Combeferre started, but the blond shook the hand on his shoulder away and took a step in Grantaire's direction. 

"Leave. Now. We don't need your negative opinions or your drunkenness interrupting the meetings. Your presence is not required here anymore". 

"So no one can disagree with you?", Grantaire asked, despite his brain's screams telling him to shut the fuck up. He felt like a spoiled child, who, despite being wrong, refused to back down and apologize for their mistake. "The moment someone has a different opinion you kick them out? I'm pretty sure there's a name for it, starts with a D, something like...", he pretended to forget, exaggeratedly itching his chin in a sarcastic manner. "… Dictatorship, I guess". 

He knew it would make Enjolras even more furious. And despite that being exactly the opposite of what he wanted in the moment, an odd feeling of satisfaction grew on his chest when Enjolras' face turned red and he shoved Combeferre's hand away again, even more forcefully. 

"Listen to me, drunkard", he basically spat, rage and disgust so evident in his voice that whatever satisfaction that may have accomited Grantaire seconds ago vanished in the second Enjolras spoke. "You do not add to our cause. You only disrupt our meetings and occupy space. You want to waste your life away in booze? That's fine. Just don’t drag people who still have something to add to the world along with you in your whirlwind of uselessness. I do not want to see you here again unless you have something to add to the cause. And since you're only being an obnoxious pain in the ass right now, get the hell out of here". 

No more words needed to be said. Grantaire knew he had been a jerk, purposefully so. He got up from his worn out chair, grabbing his beer bottle, and made his way to the door. He didn’t bother closing it behind him. 

The cold wind of the night hit him hard, since he left his coat in the Musain on his rush, but he kept walking. Finishing his beer in only one chug, he let the bottle fall from his trembling hands and decided he'd stop in the nearest bar to resume his drinking. Something was squeezing his chest and made breathing harder. He wanted to go back and apologize to Enjolras, tell the man he was sorry for all the times he had been a jerk, beg his forgiveness for ever doubting him. 

But Enjolras didn’t want to see him right now. 

Enjolras didn’t want to see him ever again. 

He thought about fishing his phone from his pocket and calling Éponine to invite her to the bar, but decided against him. The girl was probably busy taking care of Azelma or on a shift at the store, he couldn’t remember through the haze that had been taking his brain since his fourth beer. He reached the bar and made his way in, not stopping until reaching the bartender and requesting the strongest drink available. 

He'd been there for half an hour now, leaning heavily on the table and sipping slowly on his sixth glass of whatever whisky they served him. The low and constant buzz on the back of his head erased all sound that might be around him, but suddenly his ears focused on a man speaking next to him. 

"…, aren't you?", the man was apparently asking him. 

"Wha'?", he slurred, clearly drunk and uninterested. 

"What, besides being a fag you're also deaf? I said 'you're on that SJW group of pussies two blocks from here, ain't you?'", the man said, angry. 

Grantaire just stared at him and looked away, not bothering to answer. 

The man pushed his arm, as if to get his attention. 

"Oi, I'm talking to you", he complained. 

"Fuck you", Grantaire muttered. The man laughed loudly. 

"Yeah, you wish. You and that little blond friend of yours, right? That one sure looks like a girl, maybe if I turned him on his pretty back I could get off pretending he..." 

Grantaire tightened his hands into fists and set them on the wooden surface with violence, calling the man's attention and interrupting him. 

"Oooh, look who's all protective now. Is he your boyfriend?" 

"Shut up", Grantaire muttered. 

"Does he like it when you're rough like this? He sure looks like he's into kinky shit. I just don’t get it why he chose to be with a fucker as ugly as you, that's all". 

"Shut the fuck up, man", Grantaire said, much loudly now. 

"Oh, he's not with ya, is he? My bad. He might be a little fag, but he sure can do better", he laughed loudly again. The bartender sent them a wary look. 

Grantaire got up and moved to another chair, ignoring the way the man followed him close and ordered another drink. 

"Tell me, what do you guys do on your little meetings, huh? Other than talk about how you love taking it in the ass?", the man teased. 

"Why the fuck are you doing this, fuck off", Grantaire said, sipping his glass and starting to lose patience. 

"Because you lot disgust me, that's why. That blond faggot walking around planning protests and talking about all that shit, that’s what I hate the most in this world. If I could, I'd kick some manliness into his little gay ass. But he'd probably like it, though". 

Grantaire tightened his grip on the glass. 

"Oh, c'mon. Just because he doesn't like your ugly face back doesn't mean he doesn't like others... I'm pretty sure he must be great on his knees, though". 

The bartender approached him quietly, whispering. 

"Don't listen to him. This asshole comes here every week looking for a bar fight. Just let him grow tired and leave, I don’t want any problems here". 

Grantaire took another sip from his glass, pretending the rude man wasn't beside him. 

"How many dicks do you think he took since you came here? I'm pretty sure that's what he does in your absence". 

"I know a girl who can probably fuck the gay out of him. That's all he needs, a good pussy and he'll give up this nonsense". 

"Whenever that little bitch opens his mouth I want to punch him right in the nose". 

"One day someone will get fed up with him and will kill him. That will be a favor to us all, actually". 

"Maybe I'll be the one to put a bullet in his head and shut his stupid mouth". 

Grantaire couldn’t take that anymore. He set his glass on the table and punched the man right on the face, sending him flying from his chair and colliding with the ground. 

Beside him, the bartender tensed up.  

The man started to rise from the ground, nose bleeding, and spat on the floor. He looked at Grantaire menacingly, getting up, and without warning threw a punch. 

Grantaire was drunk out of his mind. Everything was spinning and blurred, but somehow he managed to dodge the first punch. The second one, though, hit him in the stomach, and he doubled over, all air leaving him. 

The man wasted no time. He grabbed Grantaire's collar to keep him in place and punched his face, once, twice, three times, until the sound of a gun cocking stopped him. The bartender was pointing a shotgun at his aggressor's head. 

"This is your last warning", the bartender said. "Leave. If you show up here ever again I'll call the police". 

The man let go of Grantaire's shirt, and the cynic fell back, leaning heavily on the barstool. The man laughed, whistling loudly, and exited the bar. 

Grantaire was breathing heavily, stomach upset, and couldn’t hold it anymore. He doubled over, vomiting on the floor until he was left dry heaving. 

Someone grabbed him by the shirt collar again, dragging him away to the backdoor. 

"I told you I didn’t want any trouble, dude", the bartender said, before lightly pushing him out of the door and closing it behind him, leaving Grantaire alone in the cold back alley. 

He started walking slowly, head still spinning from the booze and from the punching, until he realized there were four dark figures blocking the alley exit. Leaning heavily on the wall, he sighed, waiting for the inevitable. 

Were Grantaire not drunk, he'd probably be able to escape his assaulters or even beat them up. But he couldn’t even stand up straight, there was no way he could defeat them. His only hope was fleeing. He put both hands on his pockets, trying to reach his phone, and hoped he could dial Bahorel's number.  

"This bitch here thought he could punch me in the face and get away with it", the man said to his friends, approaching Grantaire. He hit the dial on his phone, unable to see it's screen since it was still inside his pocket, hoping he got the right contact on the list. 

"I think he needs to learn a lesson", one of them said. 

"Yeah, let's help him and teach him a lesson", said another. 

"Hello?", he heard the muffled voice coming from his phone. It sounded like Combeferre, not Bahorel. Fuck. "Grantaire, are you there?" 

"Let's teach him a lesson he'll never forget", the first man said, and punched Grantaire right in the face. The raven fell back, hitting the dirty ground of the alley, and started screaming the address of the bar only hoping Combeferre had not hung up yet and would understand the situation. 

"What? Grantaire, are you okay?" He heard Combeferre ask before another punch hit his face and he only managed to scream "help!" Before the man kicked his ribs and turned him on the side, shoving his hand inside the cynic's pocket and fishing out his phone. 

"Aw, how cute. He called one of his boyfriends for help", the man said, before ending the call and shoving the cellphone against the wall, breaking it. Grantaire uselessly tried to drag himself away from them, but two men grabbed both his arms and raised his body from the floor, leaving his torso exposed for the other two men. They started taking turns on punching Grantaire, whose struggles to get away were getting weaker with each punch. He was sure he heard at least one rib cracking, and the taste of blood suddenly flooded his mouth, making him feel sick. 

The man holding him let go, and Grantaire fell harshly, head coliding with the ground with a wet thud. They were saying something to him, but their words were muffled and uninteligible. Grantaire thought they started kicking him, but he couldn’t be sure. The pain was everywhere, he couldn’t understand what was happening or where he was being assaulted.  

This went on for what felt like an eternity, kicks and punches being thrown mercilessly, hitting every spot of his bruised flesh. He threw up on the floor beside his head, a mix of bile and blood that made him even sicker. Someone tried to raise him from his lying position, but his body was limp, so his head collided with the floor again as whoever it was let him go. More kicks hit him and he was sure he was going to die, there was too much pain and blood for him to get out of this one alive. 

Suddenly the kicking stopped, leaving him aching all over, and the only phrasing he could make sense of was "think better next time you want to stand up for your blonde sweetheart" being whispered next to his ear. 

Grantaire didn’t know how much time passed between the beating and the moment Combeferre found him, but as soon as he heard the brunette's voice his entire body relaxed, weary, and he allowed his head to loll to the side, towards the man. 

"Jesus fucking Christ", Combeferre exclaimed, as soon as he spotted Grantaire. "Call Joly, quick, call Joly and tell him to take the medical kit to the Musain, it's worse than we thought". 

"Fuck, is he breathing?" Someone who sounded like Bahorel asked. 

"Barely, oh my god. We may need to take him to the hospital", Combeferre replied, approaching Grantaire and touching the man's shoulder. The cynic's body stiffened, hurting all over, making Combeferre draw away his hand. Only then Grantaire realized his eyes were closed, and the effort it took to open them was more than he thought it would be. He only managed to open one eye, the other swollen shut. 

"F-Ferre...?", he asked, voice sounding hoarse and small. The blood pooling inside his mouth made it harder to speak clearly. 

"Oh my god, he's alive. Thank god. Grantaire, where do you hurt most? What happened?" 

Grantaire tried to figure out where the worst of the pain was at, but he couldn't. Everything was too hazy and too painful for him to decide. 

"Man talk'd shit 'bout Enj'ras", he explained, spitting blood. "Couldn' have that. Punch'd him. They beat me up", he explained, eye closing from the tiredness. 

"Hey, hey, stay awake, you can't go to sleep okay?", Combeferre said, shaking him slightly. The movement sent a wave of pain across his body and he heard himself whimpering loudly. "We're taking you to Musain, Joly will patch you up. You'll be just fine". 

"'M I dying?" Grantaire asked, without meaning to. 

"No, hell no. Bahorel, lift him up, let's get him out of here", Combeferre asked. 

Suddenly there were arms below him and he was floating, head thrown backwards, arm hanging limply from Bahorel's form. The position made Grantaire feel more pain than he ever thought it was possible, and he groaned, making Bahorel walk faster. 

"Hang in there, R. I know it hurts, but we're almost there", the big man said soothingly, which was uncommon.  

"Slow down, you'll make it worse", someone behind them said, Grantaire thought it could be Feuilly. 

Everything was a blur of voices and pain and commands and cold, until suddenly it was warm and the surface below him was soft. He attempted to open his eye again, only to find himself staring at a ceiling that was somehow familiar, but he couldn’t remember how or why. Then a bright white light sent a sharp stabbing sensation through his brain, and he shut his eye close, only to have the lids pulled open again. 

"I'm sorry R, I know it hurts, I'm sorry", someone apologized. Was that Joly? 

"J-Jol'?", he asked. 

"Yes R, it's me, it's ok, it's gonna be ok. Can you tell me where it hurts more?" 

"Ev-vr'ywhere", he managed to mutter. 

Joly held his breath and started barking orders. 

"Bossuet, give me that scissor, I need to cut his shirt open. Bahorel, take his pants off, no, just pull them off for god's sake! Ferre, ask 'Chetta to boil some water then bring it to me, Feuilly, fetch me some clean cloths from upstairs, Courf, go grab some bandages in my medical kit, and Enjolras, for fuck's sake, stay back, I've told you to give me space!" 

"But he's hurt!", Grantaire heard the blond protest and opened his eyes again. 

"'Jolras?", he asked, and suddenly there was a firm pressure on his hand. He tried to squeeze back, only barely managing to do so. 

"How come you can always get yourself in trouble, huh?", he asked, sounding weird. His voice somehow sounded... worried. Which was uncommon. Grantaire frowned. 

"Enjolras, you can talk to him later, move!", Joly ushered him away, and the warmth in Grantaire's hand disappeared. 

He could feel his wounds being dabbed with a warm fabric, but suddenly the pain became too much. He could hardly breathe through it, and tried to grab Joly's hand and halt him, but his limbs were no longer obeying him. Something in his throat stopped the air from reaching his lungs and Grantaire started wheezing loudly, chest burning from the bruises and the lack of air. 

"What's happening?" Enjolras asked, hysteric. 

"He can't breathe, Joly!" Bossuet warned. 

"Quickly, turn him on his side!", Joly instructed, and rough hands forced his body to turn around and held him in place. 

A metallic taste once again flooded his mouth as he coughed and spurted blood all over the floor. The ringing in his ears was getting louder and louder and the blood wouldn't stop flowing, and he could hear Joly frantically yelling something that sounded like "somebody call an ambulance!". 

Then his body gave in into the tiredness and everything went blissfully black.


	2. Chapter 2

As consciousness hit him, he felt the pain. 

It was not nearly as bad as before, of course, but it was still there, making him ache, like a background noise. At first, it felt like his brain had been replaced with cotton, sluggish and heavy, but as he properly awoken his thoughts started to align. The first thing he remembered was the fight with Enjolras, which made him unconsciously whimper. In less than five seconds he felt a hand squeeze his, and an angelic voice calling his name. 

"Grantaire? Can you hear me?" 

The cynic opened his eyes, blinking slowly and several times until his vision focused on the person beside him.  

It was Enjolras. 

He opened his mouth to speak but then realized that: 1. there was an oxygen mask on his face; and 2. he was thirsty as hell. 

"No, no, no, don't speak", Enjolras warned, hands on his shoulders, and _what the fuck is going on why is Enjolras on my deathbed why is he touching me he never touches me why does he look so tired and why is his voice so soft oh my god what the fuck what happened why do I hurt all over what the HELL-_

"Grantaire? Please, you're hyperventilating, you need to take deep breaths", the blond's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Ok? Breathe with me, it's going to be ok". Enjolras took a deep breath and let it out slowly, urging Grantaire to imitate him. Grantaire did, though it took a while of breathing along with Enjolras, until his breathing evened out again, and his ribs started to ache deeply. He shut his eyes close tightly, tears threatening to leak from it, and Enjolras must have noticed his discomfort, for his hand was squeezing Grantaire's again and asked "are you in pain? Please nod or shake your head, if you are I need to call the nurse and ask them to increase your morphine". 

Grantaire shook his head despite of the fire burning his insides. If feeling pain was what it took to have Enjolras' attention like this, he'd go through it anyday. 

"Alright then. Is there anything you need?", Enjolras asked, but blushed when he realized there was no way Grantaire could answer. "Oh, right.  But you sure must be thirsty, yeah?" 

Grantaire nodded, the movement making the room spin. When he opened his eyes, he found Enjolras staring at him with an odd expression. Could that be regret? 

Enjolras helped him take off the oxygen mask and put the glass against Grantaire's chapped lips. The man swallowed eagerly and the cold water eased the dryness of his throat. When he got satisfied he pulled his head away slightly, Enjolras understanding and setting the glass on the small table beside the bed. 

"Enjolras...", he started, voice still sounding raspy. 

"Please, don't talk. You're not a hundred percent yet, you've been badly beaten and out for days. When you arrived you had one punctured lung, three broken ribs, a twisted wrist, a broken nose, a concussion that was probably the worst in the world history and a thousand bruises. I've never been more stressed out in my entire life". 

"Why?", Grantaire managed to ask. The question sent a frown to Enjolras' brow. 

"Because you looked like death! When Jehan saw you they nearly passed out from worry.  We all thought the worst. And Combeferre told me the reason those men beat you up". 

Grantaire tensed up at this, heart rate increasing.  

"You shouldn’t have done that, Grantaire. It wasn’t worth it". 

"Of course it was worth it", he muttered, speech still slurred by the remaining drugs in his system. "I wouldn’t let that jerk talk shit about you and get away with it". 

Enjolras sighed, looking confused. 

"I don't understand. Why would you defend me after all the terrible things I told you back at the Musain?" 

Grantaire sighed, looking away from the man. He wished he could be anywhere but there. 

"I want to understand", the blond said, squeezing Grantaire's hand again. "Please, R. Why would you put yourself in danger because of me?" 

Exhaustion was making Grantaire's limbs heavy. The burning in his ribs was becoming unbearable, the tension in his body only making it worse. He felt like death. He decided he didn’t give a shit anymore. 

"Because I love you", he answered. 

The pressure in his hand eased, and he could feel Enjolras' hand losing contact with his. He finally met the leader's eyes, only to find them wide as saucers, terrified, mouth half open in surprise. 

He had fucked it all up, hadn't he? 

Grantaire bit his lip, the burning in his chest increasing, pain so strong he was sure his heart had literally broken in a half. Enjolras didn’t love him back, of course. He knew that already. Enjolras was disgusted by him. His feelings physically repulsed Enjolras. 

Grantaire's breath caught in his throat and he was struck by the reality of the situation. He had just confessed his feelings for the object of his affection, after years of silently pining, and literally destroyed every chance he would ever have with the man. Even their so called friendship would end after this. He'd be lucky if Enjolras ever let him back in the ABC meetings. He didn’t realize he wasn’t breathing. 

"You need to breathe!", Enjolras was frantically telling him, Grantaire's senses finally emerging from his thoughtful stupor focusing on Enjolras, who was holding his shoulders and shaking him. "Grantaire! What's wrong?" 

Above him, the heart monitor was beeping wildly, matching the beating of his crazed heart. Grantaire tried to suck the air in but nothing reached his lungs, and the burning sensation in his chest only got worse. His hands found their way to his throat, scratching, and his chest seized once, twice, as Grantaire's eyes filled with tears and the room around his started to twirl.  

"Grantaire, please!" Enjolras was yelling, and if Grantaire had been any more sober he would notice the tears staining the blond's green eyes. 

Suddenly a nurse was pushing the man away from the bed, as a doctor started touching Grantaire and trying to urge the air inside him. The last thing Grantaire saw before he passed out again was Enjolras being forced out of the room by to guards, hand outstretched towards Grantaire, trying to reach him as he yelled something the cynic couldn’t understand. And the last thing Grantaire did before he was put under again was try to lift his arm towards his Apollo. 

- 

When he woke up the second time, it was Joly on his bedside.  

The young medical student was sitting on the uncomfortable hospital chair, head thrown back as he snored lightly. Grantaire didn’t want to wake him, since he looked very tired. 

He was starting to drift off again when someone else entered the room. His heart thumped madly in his chest, hoping it would be Enjolras, but it turned out to be Bossuet. 

"Hey there, sleeping beauty", the bald man greeted, approaching the bed. The sound of his voice rose Joly from his nap. 

"Huh? What?" The small man asked, confused, sitting upright in his chair. He then locked eyes with Grantaire. "R! You're awake! Thank god", he made as if to hug the injured man, but remembering his condition, stopped himself just in time. 

Bossuet fetched him a cup of water and helped him drink it, before Grantaire felt up to talking again. 

"How long have I been out?", he asked, voice hoarse. 

"Well, you were out for 3 days before you woke up and collapsed again, then you've been in and out of consciousness for 2 more days until now", Bossuet explained. 

"What happened?" 

"Enjolras stressed you out", Joly explained. "Turns out he doesn’t have the best bedside manner. We're sorry, R. We shouldn’t have left him alone with you". 

Memories of the episode flooded Grantaire's mind all at once and he gaped. 

"What?", Joly asked, nervous.

"Oh my god. I told him I loved him", the cynic explained. 

Joly and Bossuet exchanged a look. 

"Oh", Bossuet was the first one to speak. "That explains a lot". 

"What do you mean?" Grantaire frowned. 

"Well, you collapsed after you guys talked, and he was kicked out of your room, looking super guilty. He didn’t want to talk about it with anyone, not even Combeferre. He went straight home and no one has seen him ever since". 

"Don't worry, R", said Joly. "I'm sure he's not mad at you". Bless Joly for always being able to guess what Grantaire is thinking. "He's probably just sorting his own feelings out". 

"Enjolras doesn’t have feelings for me", Grantaire protested, feeling tired. 

"That's not true. He may not feel for you as strongly as you feel for him yet, but he cares about you deeply. I had never seen him more nervous than when you were brought in. I nearly had to sedate him after the ambulance took you, he wouldn’t stop shaking". 

"That doesn’t sound like Enjolras at all", Grantaire commented. 

"We all found it odd too. I think he cried when Combeferre told him the reason why you were assaulted", Bossuet replied, receiving a warning look from Joly. 

"Believe me, R, he cares for you. And you're being released in a couple days, so don’t worry, you guys can talk this through ok?", Joly said, squeezing his hand. Somehow, it felt wrong. 

"For now, you need to rest, my man. Everyone is worried sick about you. You may get visitors later", Bossuet complemented. 

Grantaire nodded and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep, trying not to think about Enjolras and the terror in his face when he heard the cynic's confession. 

- 

A week had passed since Grantaire was released and Joly had taken him to his home so he could make sure the man wouldn’t drink too much. Now it was friday, which meant it was meeting-at-the-Musain night.  

"C'mon R, everyone wants to see you're still alive. You're clear to go there and sit quietly, what's the matter?" Bossuet asked. Grantaire made no movement other than keep pressing the button on the remote control as he avoided the friend's gaze. 

"Is this still about the Enjolras thing?" Joly asked loudly from the bathroom. 

Grantaire got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen, followed closely by the bald man. 

"R, people miss you", Bossuet tried to reason. 

"Yeah R, everyone has been asking...", Joly cried from the bathroom. 

"Guys, please, give it a break", Grantaire interrupted harshly. "I don’t want to go to the meeting ok? Enjolras made it very clear, I'm not supposed to go back unless I have something useful. Turns out I have nothing useful for the cause. Just leave me alone", he stormed out to the guest room and closed the door behind him. 

He wanted to throw himself on the bed to give his tantrum a sense of closure, but that would be unwise and painful. Instead, he lied down carefully, huffing with the effort, and settling himself against the pile of pillows Joly made for him. His bruises still hurt if he moved too harshly but otherwise he could manage it. He grabbed the bottle of pills on the nightstand and took one, despite Joly's warning of not taking more than three in one day. This was probably his fifth. It wasn’t only physical pain he was trying to heal. 

There was a gentle knock on the door and he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t attending the meeting and that was the end of it. His presence wasn’t required. He wasn’t needed there. 

"Hey", Joly greeted, opening the door slightly and shoving only his head inside the bedroom. "We're leaving for the meeting. You don’t need to go if you don’t want to. I'll just tell everyone you're not feeling well yet". 

"Thanks, Joly", he sighed with relief. 

"No problem, R. You don’t need to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, ok? There's food inside the microwave if you need it, I'll leave some blankets over here if you feel cold and your phone is charged, call if you need anything". 

"You're the best", Grantaire muttered, a warm feeling overwhelming him. 

"Don't mention it. We shouldn’t be longer than two hours. See you later R, don’t do anything too dangerous, and seriously, call me if anything happens ok?" 

"Don't worry doc. I'll be ok, you go and change the world with your shenanigans". 

Joly smiled at him and closed the door again. No longer after Grantaire could hear the front door being closed, and felt bad for being relieved at his friends' absence. He loved Joly and Bossuet like brothers, but sometimes – specially when he was somewhat injured – they could be too much. Grantaire needed some alone time. 

He let his mind wander towards any subject that didn’t involve Enjoras, he couldn’t handle the thought of the man right now. He couldn’t even imagine what facing the man after what he said would be like, whether Enjolras would feel pity or disgust towards him. So instead of thinking of Enjolras, he decided to think about the TV show he'd been watching. 

Grantaire was dozing off on the bed, lids closed lightly and mind nearly absent when a sound rose him from his stupor. His soul nearly left his body when he spotted Enjolras standing in front of the bed, staring at him. Grantaire couldn’t help but make a little jump, startled, upseting his broken ribs and sending a wave of pain across his torso, earning an unwanted whimper from his throat. 

"Shit, I didn’t mean to scare you, I'm sorry", Enjolras said, looking somewhat embarrassed. And _what the fuck why is Enjolras apologizing_. 

"You scared the shit out of me", Grantaire complained, trying to find a better position on the pillows. "What the hell are you doing here?". Realizing his words sounded too harsh for his own ears, he immediately added: "I mean, shouldn’t you be at the meeting? Why are you not at the Musain?" 

Enjolras looked even more embarrassed and oh my god is he blushing? 

"I came to check on you", he explained, not looking Grantaire in the eye. "Joly said you were still unwell". 

"Well, yeah, I'm not 100% yet. But you didn’t need to worry, I'm fine. You can go back to planning a better world, etc". 

"I... I just...", Enjolras seemed lost. Speechless. Well, that was a first. 

"What is it, Enjolras?" The cynic asked patiently. 

"I don't get it", Enjolras let out a frustrated sigh. "How is it possible I can make a three-hour speech to a crowd full of people or, or, I don't know, talk to anyone about any subject involving justice and social awareness, or hell, even speak about stupid TV series to Courfeyrac, but when it comes to talking to you about my feelings I'm either at a loss for words or start ranting manically like I'm doing right now?" 

Grantaire stared at Enjolras for a long time before he spoke. 

"Your _feelings_ ", he stated. 

"Listen, Grantaire", the blond sat at the edge of the bed, covering his eyes with his hands and looking impatient. "Please, just listen, don't interrupt me or I will never be able to say what I need to say. Ok?" 

"Ok", Grantaire answered, wary. 

"Ever since we had that fight at the Musain, since you left through that door after I told you to- I don't know what happened, but I can't get you out of my head, I can't think of any subject other than you. And when Combeferre got your call, when we all heard you screaming for help, I... I freaked out, Grantaire. I was so confused, I didn’t understand why, until then I only ever saw you as an acquaintance, or as a vessel to strengthen my arguments, or as the drunk cynic who sits at the back. But when the sudden possibility of losing you forever came up something in me awoke. I couldn’t lose you. I didn’t understand why I was so worried, but as soon as Bahorel came in carrying your body I realized it. I had- no, I have feelings for you. Maybe I'm not ready to refer to it as love yet, but I definitely like you back. I thought you were dead when he came in, R, do you understand? I freaked out so hard Joly wanted to drug me. I thought I had lost you before I even had the chance of realizing how much you meant for me, and there was so much blood and you were in so much pain, I'm- And when Ferre told me the reason you were hurt was because you were standing up for me? After everything I had told you? I just, I don't- Listen, I'm sorry ok? I'm sorry for all the times I put you down just for the sake of it, or all the times I made you ache because of my obliviousness, or all the times I was harsh to you, or, or... Look, I'm ranting again, what I came hear to ask and am trying to say is _GrantairewillyougoonadatewithmepleasesayyesbecauseIcan'thandleifyousaynounlessyoudon'twantitthenit'sokayyoudon'tneedtosayyesjustbecauseIaskedyoutohmygodI'llshutupnow_ ". 

"What." Grantaire whispered, horrified. 

Enjolras swallowed dry. 

"Will you go on a date with me?" The blonde said, holding his breath. 

"Is this a joke?" Grantaire asked. 

"I have never been more serious in my whole life". 

"You're not doing this out of pity then?" 

"Of course not. I respect you and your feelings. And as I said, I reciprocate them". 

"Jesus fucking Christ, Enjolras", Grantaire whispered, closing his eyes. Enjolras set his hand on the top of the cynic's knee. 

"If you don't want to go out with me, I understand. There's no problem, I... I just really wanted to let you know how I feel about you". 

Grantaire snorted at this. 

"Of course I want to go on a date with you, you douchebag. I've been in love with you for years now". 

Enjolras smiled at this, getting up and sitting closer to Grantaire. 

"May... May I kiss you?" The blond leader asked, blushing again. God, Grantaire didn’t even know Enjolras could blush this much. A shiver went down his spine and he only had the strength to whisper a nervous "yes" before Enjolras' red lips were on his and they shared their first kiss. 

When Joly and Bossuet returned home an hour later, after waiting in vain for Enjolras' return, they were met with the sight of Grantaire splayed against the pillows, sound asleep, and a snoring Enjolras cuddled against him, careful not to upset his injured ribs. After taking a picture with his phone and showing it to Bossuet, he left the couple alone, knowing both of them had earned their well deserved sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I don't know, this was just a random idea I had, I hope this turned out okay!  
> As always kudos and comments are appreciated ^-^

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always apreciated, so is constructive criticism! Thank you for reading ^-^


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